Betrayed and Claimed by the Lycan King Chapter 10

**Isolde's POV**

 

The blonde woman suddenly stopped what she was doing and followed his gaze. When she spotted me, rage contorted her beautiful features. She stood, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

 

"What the fuck!" the woman shrieked, clutching a towel nearby to her chest. "Who the hell are you?"

 

I stood frozen in the doorway, my brain struggling to process what I'd just walked into. The spa's VIP room was all marble surfaces and soft lighting, designed for the ultimate in privacy and relaxation. Clearly, I'd interrupted something far more intimate than a therapeutic massage.

 

The man turned to look at me, and those golden eyes—those fucking impossible golden eyes—locked onto mine.

 

Suddenly, Lyra went absolutely crazy in my head. Not words, just pure, overwhelming sensation that made my knees weak and my heart race. What the hell was wrong with her?

 

"I... I was looking for the bathroom," I stammered, which was the truth, though it sounded pathetic even to my own ears.

 

"Get out!" the blonde woman snarled, securing her towel more tightly. "This is a private session!"

 

I should have listened. Should have backed away immediately and apologized. But something was seriously wrong with my wolf—she was flooding my system with adrenaline and making my legs feel like jello. I couldn't seem to move properly.

 

"Wait, you're Isolde, aren't you?" the woman asked.

 

*How did she know my name?*

 

Before I could force my uncooperative body to obey, heavy footsteps echoed down the corridor. Greta appeared behind me, her face transitioning from irritation to absolute horror when she saw the scene.

 

"Dear Moon Goddess," she whispered, then immediately dropped into a submissive bow. "Alpha Ezra, Evanthe, I am so deeply sorry for this interruption."

 

Alpha Ezra and Evanthe? The names hit me like a physical blow.

 

"That's the Lycan King! Do you have any idea what you're doing?" Greta hissed in my ear, her voice trembling with fear.

 

The words slammed into me. This man—this impossibly attractive, completely naked man who was making my wolf act like she'd lost her damn mind—was Ezra Silverwood. The Alpha of Silver Moon Group. The most powerful werewolf in the city.

 

And Evanthe. Thalia was right about her being a bully.

 

And I'd just walked in on him getting blowjob from Evanthe.

 

"Greta," the blonde woman—Evanthe—said with deadly calm, "I thought you assured us that your new girls understood the importance of privacy."

 

"Yes, absolutely. This girl is brand new and clearly doesn't understand protocol yet," Greta said, grabbing my arm with bruising force. "She'll be severely disciplined immediately."

 

"Wait," I said, finally finding my voice and pulling against Greta's grip. My wolf's bizarre reaction had left me feeling reckless and pissed off. "I was just looking for a bathroom. No one told me this area was off-limits."

 

Greta's face went white with terror. "Isolde, stop talking. Now."

 

But I was beyond caring about protocol. Whatever was happening with Lyra had my adrenaline spiking and my temper flaring.

 

"I mean, seriously, if you want privacy, maybe lock the door," I continued, my voice gaining strength.

 

The silence that followed was deafening. Alpha Ezra's eyes narrowed, studying me with an intensity that made my skin burn. Evanthe looked like she was about to spontaneously combust from rage.

 

"Remove her from my sight," Evanthe said, her voice dripping with venom. "Immediately."

 

"Of course. Right away." Greta practically dragged me from the room.

 

As we left, I caught Alpha Ezra's gaze one final time. There was something in those eyes—surprise, maybe? Interest? It was impossible to tell.

 

---

 

"Thirty years," Greta seethed as she marched me through the corridors. "Thirty fucking years I've worked here without a single complaint about my management, and you—on your first day—have me being screamed at by the Alpha's favorite woman."

 

"I didn't know—"

 

"Shut up," she snapped. "Just shut up. You've done enough damage."

 

The punishment room looked like something out of a medieval dungeon, despite being in a state-of-the-art building. Stone walls, dim lighting, and an array of whips that made my stomach clench with dread.

 

"Strip to the waist and face the post," Greta commanded.

 

I stared at her. "For what? Walking through the wrong door?"

 

"For disrespecting the Alpha and his companion. For talking back. For being completely insubordinate." Her eyes flashed with anger. "Now strip, or I'll have the guards do it for you."

 

Every instinct in my body screamed against it, but the cold reality of my situation was sinking in. I was trapped here, at the mercy of people who clearly had no problem using violence to maintain control.

 

"You can't be really doing this to me!"

 

With shaking hands, I removed my shirt and allowed her to secure my wrists to the wooden post.

 

The first lash felt like liquid fire across my back. By the twentieth, I was biting my lip hard enough to draw blood to keep from crying out.

 

"Since you seem to enjoy talking back," Greta said after what felt like the fiftieth strike, "let's see how mouthy you are after a hundred lashes plus a day in solitary confinement."

 

"What?" I gasped. "That's insane!"

 

"One hundred and twenty-five lashes," she corrected coldly. "Keep talking."

 

I clamped my mouth shut, tears streaming down my face as the whip continued to fall. By the time she finished, my back was a mess of torn flesh and blood, though my werewolf healing was already beginning to knit the worst wounds together.

 

"Get dressed," Greta ordered when it was over. "You have five minutes before you go to solitary."

 

---

 

The solitary confinement cell was exactly what it sounded like—a small, windowless room with a cot, a bucket, and nothing else. No books, no entertainment, no human contact.

 

Twenty-four hours to think about what had just happened.

 

Twenty-four hours to process the worst first day anyone could possibly have.

 

Twenty-four hours to figure out how the hell I was going to survive this place.

 

As I curled up on the thin mattress, my back still burning with pain, I couldn't shake the feeling that Lyra's bizarre reaction to the Alpha had somehow made everything worse. If she hadn't gone haywire and made me act like an idiot, maybe I could have handled the situation better.

 

*Great job today,* I thought bitterly toward my wolf, who had finally settled down but remained ominously quiet.

 

I let out a bitter laugh that echoed off the concrete walls. "Lyra, you really screwed me over this time."

 

The silence that followed was deafening. Twenty-three hours and fifty-five minutes to go.